Pink, Green and Blue
by Woodrow Graham Kenobi-Rimmer
Summary: Ziona is fascinated by her new home on Vulcan and likes Klen, but nothing turns out at all like anyone expected... Partner for 'Unspoken', 'Seductive Logic', 'Silly Vulcans' and 'What I Hate about You'
1. Chapter 1

**Pink, Green and Blue**

* * *

**Chapter One: Change of Plan**

* * *

Ziona missed her tribble, Shakespeare, terribly as she unpacked her things; tribbles were really great pets when they weren't multiplying like, well, tribbles. As she placed her ancient Terran books on a shelf, she reflected on her prior conversation with Klen in the transport. He had politely answered all of her questions about the city Niarth and himself. He was the Ambassador to Andoria, he had an older brother named Kruv, he found his job very fulfilling but his family didn't approve; they disliked the Andorians too much to see the logic, he said. Klen was amazingly sweet; it was not how she had imagined Vulcans to be. She was glad that he lived in the city so that she could experience Vulcan culture more completely. His apartment could only be described as a penthouse and the interior was absolutely exquisite. It was fitting for an Ambassador. She was really lucky that her host was such an important political figure, but it made her feel so inadequate. She sat down at her desk to write in her journal, pushing her auburn, shoulder-length hair behind her ears.

Klen was not having much success in his meditation tonight. He could not suppress his apprehension that Ziona would only resent him when he told her of her real purpose. She was surprisingly knowledgeable about Vulcan culture and history and asked many intellectual questions, but that did not mean she would be more than happy to bond with him. This whole arrangement went against all the romantic notions an earth woman of her age would have. He had received a message from Jaref, telling him that, perhaps attempting to woo the females would prove a better method than just telling them that they had no other choice. It was easy for Jaref to say, Jaref's pon farr was in 5 years and not in 9 months. He might have a valid point though, it could be possible to charm Ziona, it just seemed very presumptuous to have so much faith his advances would be successful. Vulcans were not like humans and did not share the delusion of romantic love. He did not want to lie to her, Jaref would say that he wasn't lying, he just wasn't letting on. Jaref was a good friend, a brilliant geneticist and the most logical Vulcan of his age that Klen had ever met, but he lacked something. It was as if he had never had any emotions to purge. Jaref knew almost as much about humans as Klen but he interpreted it differently. Klen found the Terran fascinating and more likeable than the Andorians. Jaref found them illogical and a nuisance. Jaref was more interested in genes and DNA than he was in actual beings. That was why; it was unusual that he had picked Calypsa. She did not resemble a Vulcan in any way and her title as an "exotic dancer" hinted that her profession was less than honorable, and Klen doubted her sexual purity. Jaref had refused to explain why he had picked her, only mumble-whispering something about "genetically compatible", Klen had his suspicions that Jaref somehow gained access to genetic blue prints that he wasn't supposed to have.

At any rate he would have to tell Ziona soon. He gracefully got to his feet, putting his robe back on. The Andorian Ambassador and a highly decorated member of the Imperial Guard were coming over tonight; if he could have persuaded them to pick a more reasonable time, he would have. Now he would probably have to introduce Ziona, or appear rude. It wasn't that he was ashamed of her it was just that, Andorians were so nosy, especially about matters involving mating rituals of any kind. He had to warn Ziona. He spoke into the console by her door. "Ziona, may I speak with you." No answer. "Ms. Quinton, are you well?" No response. Hmm… He was about to ask a maid to go in and check on her when his aide Ty'rol, disrupted his thoughts.

"The Andorian ambassador has arrived sir, he seems…impatient to meet with you."

"Thank you, Ty'rol. I will meet with him at once." He made his way to the chambers intended for entertaining, deciding it might be best if Ziona wasn't around to meet the Andorians.

* * *

Trom smirked as he observed the respected Andorians, disappear into the penthouse. This would be too easy. He would show these Vulcan bastards what the Rebellion thought of their trade agreement. Arrogant green-blooded pacifistic emotionless freaks. His antennas twitched as he scanned the area, it was so hot here, on this giant forsaken rock of a planet. This part of the city was particularly calm and there was not a soul in sight to observe him. He stepped out of his hiding place behind a garbage pod. The sun was almost set and no one noticed as a solitary blue figure slunk around building, wearing a mischievous expression that declared him "up to no good".

* * *

Ziona, usually loving to write in her journal, could not get into it right now. She quickly gave up. She really wanted to explore the monolithic 'apartment', if you could call it that when it took up over half of the building. She may be a boring librarian, but she had a profound curious streak. After all, Klen had not told her that she couldn't explore the place, what harm could there be? She walked slowly down the hallway, taking her time to soak in all the differences in Vulcan architecture and décor. She had been looking around for about ten minutes when she saw through an archway, a gorgeous room that had the appearance of a ballroom. She entered, smiling at the amber toned floor that had obviously just been polished. She was glad that she was wasn't wearing shoes. The most breathtaking thing about the ball room was the huge window that took up the entire far wall. It revealed enormous mountains with jagged edges and an ancient looking balcony that was that could be accessed through a single sliding door. Ziona went out onto the balcony and leaned over the side. It seemed his home was on the very edge of the city, because there was nothing before her but a harsh reddish desert with ragged hills, back dropped presently by the rays of a sinking sun. There was a rather strong breeze and it whipped her hair about but, she didn't care. Spending most one's life in a stuffy library/computer archive did have some major drawbacks. She was too immersed in the sunset and her musings on what she could learn about Vulcan to notice the perplexed Andorian that was staring at her.

Trom shot his grapple over the side of the balcony and hastily pressed the button to reel him in. The device worked like it was supposed to this time and he was elevated slowly, so that he was able to grab a hold of the railing and climb over. Not like the last time he had used it and nearly broken an antenna off on a cliff face. Damn temperamental contraption. Trom got to his feet and returned the device to its holder in his belt. He sent a message to the rest of his crew, updating them on his progress. He sat on the ledge, waiting for his comm to upload the schematics of the dwelling. He really needed the new model. He looked around with mild curiosity but mainly noticed how ugly it was here compared to Andoria. The apartment's layout was finally done loading when his antennae flipped to the side, sensing something. Sure enough, someone was walking out onto the balcony. He remained as still as possible, reaching for his gun. The female didn't seem to be aware of his existence though, she leaned over the railing, her bronze hair flying in the wind. Trom's antennas bent slightly and a crease appeared on his forehead. This was a very odd looking Vulcan. He had never seen a Vulcan with wavy reddish hair; that wore such clothes. Vulcan garb tended to be very bland in his opinion and hid the only things that made them interesting. This female was wearing a grey sweater and slacks, hardly a Vulcan outfit. Another gust of wind blew up the lock of hair that was covering her left ear and suddenly it dawned on him. She was a human, a pink-skin. Why was she on Vulcan, in the ambassador's house? As far as Trom knew, Vulcans had never been known to hire escorts or take concubines. The thought that she could be his bond mate passed through his mind but was quickly squashed. Like that would ever happen. Her well-shaped body and pretty face caught his attention, and both his antennas were now pointing at her, almost of their own accord. He didn't want to kill her but; he needed to get moving and couldn't risk her alerting the whole place to his presence. He grabbed his stun gun and aimed; a soft zapping noise resounded. The Terran female gently collapsed with a quiet thump. He would have to thank Gilanek for convincing him to bring the stun gun along. He had planned to just knock this 'Klen' unconscious with a nearby blunt object, preferably a treasured, one-of-a-kind vulcan relic that would shatter on contact. Trom rolled the human over, checking her pulse. She would be fine. Looking at her still figure, an idea suddenly came to him and his antennae pricked up with delight. He spoke into his comm, his blue face grinning evilly. "Prepare two cells; there has been a change of plan."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Captive**

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Ziona groaned as she awakened, feeling kind of sore. She rubbed her eyes yawning, wondering when she had fallen asleep. The last thing she remembered was looking at the view from Klen's apartment then…nothing. She blinked and examined her surroundings; she was lying on a cot in some kind of cell. That woke her up. She sat bolt upright, her eyes darting around the room. She was on a spaceship, that was obvious and the construct was not Vulcan or Terran it was…what was it? It was so familiar; she had read a book about the spaceships used by various different species of aliens and she was sure she'd seen a picture of a ship like this. It definitely wasn't Klingon; she was drawing a complete blank. She realized she was way too worried about what type of ship it was and not nearly enough about the fact that she was on a ship at all. What had happened? Had she been kidnapped? Why would anybody want to kidnap her? She was staying with an ambassador yes, but she wasn't involved in anything. Ziona checked her pockets for her comm; she didn't have it. Well, of course they would take her comm from her. She started pacing the cell, looking for some kind of exit or interface, yet all she could find was something on the ceiling that was obviously a camera. She had the basic necessities, a bed and toilet facilities. Then she began to notice something about the cell; it had pronounced blue tones. Now, what species really liked the color blue…damn it! She knew this; it must be the adrenaline. The answer was eluding her she almost had it then, the door opened. Andorian! The ship was Andorian! She smiled for a brief second before spiraling back down to the reality of an angry looking andorian with a phaser in hand, standing in front her. The andorian said nothing but entered the cell and began to circle her, his eyes missing no part of her anatomy it seemed. Ziona decided she was definitely a prisoner but, it still made no sense; Andoria and Vulcan were currently peaceful. She stood completely still at first trying not acknowledge his ogling but finally got a bit tired of it; it reminded her of the obnoxious teenage boys who would come into the library to cause trouble and make dirty jokes about her.

"I am wondering, are you mute? Or just rude?"

The andorian halted in front of her, crossing his arms and smirking. "Oh, are we a feisty pinkskin? Your spunk surprises me, considering that we have your boyfriend held captive. I must admit, your taste in males surprises me. Despite the unbearable oven of a planet they live on, the vulcans always seemed rather frigid."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I don't have a boyfriend. Perhaps you are speaking of my vulcan host. I assure you, he is not my lover; I only met him yesterday. Or at least I think it was yesterday…" Ziona realized she was mumbling to herself and abruptly stopped talking. Oh God, why had she told him that she didn't have a boyfriend? She was going to regret that.

"You speak as if meeting him yesterday had an obvious correlation with your not being lovers. I guess vulcans aren't the only frigid species." The andorian dusted something off of his silver uniform and chuckled to himself. "As much as I would enjoy discussing the varying sexual appetites among humanoids; I really don't have the time. I checked your comm, it seems your name is Ziona Quinton, you are a librarian, you are 27 years old, you have two brothers and you enjoy reading. Hmm…I would take you for more of a feminist than a vulcan mail-order bride."

Ziona noticed his antennas were often pointed in her direction; a sure sign of attraction among andorians. She filed away the information for later, curious as to why an Andorian would be attracted to a human; they were known for their belief in their own species' superiority. "I was sent to Vulcan to aid in their attempts to find a cure for the infertility among their women. I am not a mail-order bride, what a preposterous idea." She said haughtily, thinking that he was wasting time on both their parts by goading her.

"I have to admit, you aren't bad-looking for a pinkskin; especially when you are annoyed. Preposterous? So you don't know?"

Ziona chose to annoy his first comment and the fact that he wasn't bad-looking for an andorian. She didn't need to be checking out her captor. "Know what, what are you talking about?"

The Andorian put a hand over his mouth in mock-surprise. "So you don't know…well I don't know if I should be the one to tell you then. I should probably leave that up to your vulcan boyfriend. I will have one of my crewmen bring you something more durable to wear; you look kind of cold…" His eyes lowered impishly to her chest and he grinned at her roguishly, an antenna still pointed at her.

Ziona narrowed her eyes at him crossing her arms over her chest. Why had she chosen today to wear the sports bra anyway? She was tempted to cut one of those obnoxious antennas off but, that would be really low. He would have to give her a lot better reason to do something considered so heinous among the andorians. "Of course I'm cold; it can't be more than sixty degrees in here. Who are you anyway, some kind of space pirate that gets his kicks out of sexually harassing human librarians?"

"Commander Trom of the Noonali, at your service pinkskin." He said with a bow, his antennas jerking about playfully.

"Listen Commander Trom, why don't you tell me what you want so I can go back to vulcan and you can go back to the blissful below zero temperatures of Andor."

"You seem to know a lot about Andoria. It is cold but it suits us and we are very good at keeping warm. I don't want anything from you, well not on a professional level anyway. All you have to do is sit pretty and do exactly what I tell you to. I really can't talk any longer, sort of busy, being captain and all that, it's a bit of a drag. Plus, if I stay here socializing with a pinkskin like you for too long it could be bad for my reputation as a self-respecting Andorian."

"Yeah, well I guess someone has to respect you. Am I going to get anything to eat soon?" Ziona was surprised at her own cheekiness but this guy seemed to bring it out in her, he was so insufferable.

Trom chuckled, cupping her chin briefly, prompting her to fake a grimace. "You are a spirited one aren't you? I may have to keep you as a pet or something. Don't worry; starvation is too boring a form of torture for my liking. Must be going, don't wait up!"

Ziona watched him exit the room and plopped back onto her cot only to pop up again when a different, less attractive Andorian walked in, smirked at her and tossed an outfit at her and walked out again. Her life used to be so dull, now if it anything, it had become a bit too exciting. She picked up the outfit and held it up, examining it. It was shiny and silver like Trom's and very similar except that it was obviously the female equivalent. She felt humiliated to change when there was a camera that followed her every move but, was too cold to not do so. She felt much more comfortable after putting on the unmistakably andorian uniform and collapsed on the bed, exhaling sharply. It was bothering her to no end that she didn't understand what the hell was going on, and she'd been keeping up with the intergalactic news to. What was this all about? Did the Trom really know something about the situation on Vulcan that she didn't? She hoped Klen was okay, the andorians hadn't hurt her so far but, they had a rather patchy history with his people. She could have begged Trom not to hurt him but, appearing weak was the worst thing she could do, or so she had read. Honestly, Trom had not really seemed much more threatening than any other asshole she had been around but, she had never been around an andorian before, it was possible that she couldn't read their body language as well. The whole thing was rather exciting, she had already learned about two different alien species' cultures first-hand. She was very worried though, she wasn't quite afraid, not yet anyway. Her father always said to take things as they come. She glared at the camera and gave it the finger before turning over on the bed to think about how she could get out of this, or if she could at all.

On the receiving end of the live-feed from Klen and Ziona's cells, Trom and Nefi grinned at Ziona's crude gesture.

"She is pretty delectable." The female Andorian said matter-of-factly.

"I think the vulcan would agree with you, the first thing he asked me was where she was." Trom said as he retreated back to his chair on the bridge. "How are we doing for time Whi'fek?"

The andorian at the helm swiveled in his chair to look at Trom. "We should reach the planetoid in about four hours, sir."

Nefi, who was the weapons officer, eyed her commander suspiciously. "I still do not understand the necessity of capturing the human as well. Why would the vulcan government care about her anyway?"

"Silly Nefi, she is part of our proof. This will be an excellent way to create distrust between the terran people and Vulcan if our attempts at sabotage prove unsuccessful."

Nefi pursed her lips, her antennas tilted skeptically. "I think you just want to take her to bed."

Trom smiled but didn't respond to his first officer. That was part of it to be sure but, he had a feeling that live proof of the secret arrangement between the Terran and Vulcan government could be just what their rebellion needed.


End file.
